Chapter 5 - Luke
I know I should leave. Every rational part of my brain is screaming at me to get up and walk out that door. Instead, I'm sitting here on the edge of her bed, watching her eat soup, completely mesmerized by how her lips curve around the spoon.
The soft evening light filtering through the window makes her skin glow, and somehow, even in oversized station clothes with her hair mussed from sleep, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
Goddamn it. I've run into burning buildings thousands of times. I know what it feels like when the heat hits you, when your body temperature rises with adrenaline. But this?
This is different. This heat starts deep in my chest and spreads through my entire body whenever she looks at me with those green eyes.
"Since you asked about me," I hear myself say, desperate to distract myself from these dangerous thoughts, "tell me something about you. Anything."
She sets down the soup bowl, and something vulnerable crosses her face.
"Something about me?" She bites her lower lip, considering. "How about something I've never told anyone else?"
My heart rate kicks up a notch. "I'm listening."
"Everyone always asks why I became an illustrator," she starts, fidgeting with the hem of her borrowed shirt. "I tell them I love to draw, which is true, but it's not the whole truth."
I stay quiet, sensing she needs space to continue.
"I was bullied pretty badly growing up," she says softly. "For being curvy, for not fitting into their idea of what a girl should look like. By high school, I just wanted a career where I wouldn't have to deal with people face-to-face. Where I could... hide."
Something protective and angry rises in my chest. "Why are you telling me this?"
She looks up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"I don't know. Maybe nearly dying makes you want to pour everything out. Maybe..." she pauses, "maybe I feel safe with you."
"You are safe," I say firmly, fighting the urge to pull her into my arms. "And for what it's worth, those people were idiots. You're gorgeous, Stella. You should be out there living life, not hiding from it. Trust me, the real world differs greatly from high school and college."
A small, sad smile crosses her face. "Oh? Adults can't be bullies?"
"They can be," I admit, "but now you've got me, and I'll personally kick the ass of anyone who insults you."
That draws a genuine laugh from her. "Even if they're women?"
I throw my hands up in mock surrender. "Now you're just trying to get me in trouble. I can't win here."
We both laugh, and the sound of her happiness does something to my chest that I try not to examine too closely.
"You know what?" I find myself saying, "I usually don't tell people this, but when I first started as a firefighter, I was absolutely terrified."
Her eyes widen. "You? But you're so... confident."
I snort. "Now, maybe. But back then? I was shitting bricks every time the alarm went off. My dad and grandfather were both decorated Pine Valley firefighters. The pressure to live up to that legacy was crushing. I couldn't tell anyone how scared I was of failing."
"Well," she says softly, reaching out to touch my hand, "from where I'm sitting, you've more than lived up to any legacy. You're an incredible firefighter, Luke."
"How would you know? You were unconscious for most of my heroics."
"True, but I've heard your team talking about you. They respect you. That doesn't come from just a name or a title. That comes from being a good leader."
Her mention of my team makes me smile. "You've met them already?"
"They stopped by earlier to check on me," she says with a soft laugh. "They seem very... enthusiastic."
Damn it. The whole station knows I spent the night at the hospital. They'll either demand answers or, worse, never let me hear the end of it. I can already hear Max's teasing comments and see Damon's knowing looks.
"They all seem really nice," Stella continues, "though one of them was a bit... cold."
"Kane," I say immediately. "He can come across that way, but there's a reason for it. Military service changed him and made him more reserved. But he's one of the best men I know. Would walk through fire for any of us – literally has, actually."
She nods thoughtfully. "I don't doubt it." There's a pause before she asks, "What do your father and grandfather think of you now? As Chief?"
I clasp my hands behind my head, leaning back slightly. The question hits somewhere tender, somewhere I usually keep locked away.
"They're both gone, actually."
"Oh, Luke, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"It's fine," I interrupt gently.
Why am I even talking about this? She's practically a stranger, someone I pulled from a fire less than twenty-four hours ago. She should be resting, not playing therapist to my emotional baggage. Yet something about her makes me want to keep talking, sharing, and getting closer.
"I hope they at least passed peacefully," she says softly.
I shake my head. "Grandpa died in a fire. Dad made it to seventy, but his body just... gave out. This job ages you faster than most. Takes its toll."
"Doesn't that worry you?"
Taking a deep breath, I consider my answer.
"It used to. But I've made peace with it. This life comes with certain perks and certain... disadvantages. The aches, the risks – they're part of the package. Besides," I add with a shrug, "I'm not in the field as much these days. Too much paperwork keeping me chained to my desk."
"You don't sound thrilled about that," she teases.
I force a smile, but it probably comes out more like a grimace. "I'm a man of action. Sitting behind a desk while my team risks their lives? It's the hardest part of being Chief."
"Well," she says, her voice suddenly soft and intimate, "I guess it's lucky we got to meet when we did then."
I look at her – really look at her. Her eyes are gentle, her lips slightly parted, and something in my chest tightens almost painfully.
"Maybe it was luck," I hear myself say. "Maybe it was fate."
Her cheeks flush pink, and I suddenly realize how close we've gotten, how easy it would be to lean forward and—
I stand up abruptly.
"I should go check on the kitchen. Make sure Danny hasn't started another small fire trying to make dinner."
She looks startled by my sudden movement but only nods. "Of course."
At the door, I pause, looking back at her. She's sitting cross-legged on the bed, my station's shirt slipping off one shoulder, looking like she belongs here. Like she's always belonged here.
I force myself to turn away and walk out, closing the door behind me. Leaning against it, I take a deep breath.
What the hell am I doing? She's vulnerable, recovering from trauma, and I'm what – developing feelings? Taking advantage of her gratitude?
But as I head downstairs, I can't shake the feeling that something significant just happened in that room. Something that might change everything despite my best efforts to maintain emotional distance.
The smell of burning hits my nose, followed by Danny's distinctive yelp of surprise.
At least some things never change.
I push open the kitchen door after a quick knock.
"Danny? Everything okay in here?"
The scene that greets me is pure chaos—Danny wielding a fork over a smoking pan while flames leap up around what appear to be expensive cuts of meat.
"Chief! Come in, come in," Danny grins, utterly unfazed by the minor inferno he's creating. "It might look like a disaster, but trust me, this meat is top-notch. Bought it special since we have a guest upstairs."
I shake my head, watching him battle with the pan. "Looks more like you're about to burn down the whole station."
"A firefighter can't be afraid of a little fire," Danny waves dismissively. "When this is done, you'll all be thanking me. It'll be worth it."
"It better be worth it," Ashton's voice booms as he rises from one of our circular dining tables. "If you ruin this meat, I'm punching you in the arm. That shit was expensive as hell, and I paid for it."
"First of all," Danny points the fork at him, "you owed me for being your wingman for a whole week at that goddamn biker bar. I earned this meat with my excellent backup skills."
Damon chuckles from his spot at the table. "You guys don't get it. The single life seems great until you meet the one. After that?" He shakes his head. "Nothing else matters."
"Damn straight," Shane adds, looking dreamy. "Loving someone feels better than saving the whole world."
Max lets out an exaggerated groan. "You guys are so lame when you're in love." He turns to Kane, who's lurking in the corner. "Back me up here, man."
Kane responds with a noncommittal "Hmm," which makes everyone laugh.
"Just wait," Damon grins. "You'll eat those words when you meet the right girl."
"Yeah, right," Max snorts. "Like I'm going to find a bombshell blonde with endless curves, green eyes, and a sassy mouth in this small town."
Danny keeps working the pan, which is finally starting to smoke less.
"Hey, you never know. I mean, look at the Chief – found his love in the middle of a house fire."
I clear my throat loudly, caught completely off guard.
"That's enough," I say firmly. "I'm just being nice to Stella. Once she's back on her feet, that's it. End of story." I fix them all with my best Chief glare. "Danny, focus on not burning down our kitchen. I'm going to ask Sadie to help Stella down for dinner."
I turn and leave before they can say anything else, but I hear their muffled laughter behind me. I could go up and help Stella myself – should go up, really.
It's my responsibility, but right now, I need distance. Being near her is like standing too close to a fire—intoxicating and dangerous.
The way she looks at me with those green eyes, how her full lips part when she talks, the soft curves of her body in my station's clothes... No. I need to stop this train of thought right now.
Professional distance is the only way forward. Anything else would be taking advantage of her vulnerable state.
But as I head to find Sadie, I can't help but wonder how long I can keep pretending that Stella Morrison isn't affecting me in ways no woman ever has before.